


His Little Girl

by ServantOfMischief



Category: Tokyo Ghoul
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Friendly banter, Itori - Freeform, Itori napping, Itori teasing Uta, Uta being a good dad, all in good fun, baby girl - Freeform, baby girl being demanding, uta - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-01
Updated: 2019-05-01
Packaged: 2020-02-10 20:54:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,719
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18668191
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ServantOfMischief/pseuds/ServantOfMischief
Summary: Uta can't say he's complaining about this new life. Especially not when he's got the very source of his inspiration with him at all times.





	His Little Girl

**Author's Note:**

> I want to say "The Fifth Part That Was Never Going To Happen" but at this point I know I probably won't stop writing these so... yeah, here ya go

Uta can honestly say that he’s never seen anyone as beautiful as his little girl. It was a struggle getting her out, as she apparently had no wish of leaving her mother’s cosy womb, but when she finally emerged, she let out a cry Uta is sure he’ll never forget, ever.

 

The cry of life.

 

Just seeing her and hearing her gave him more of a rush than any of his battles with Renji ever did, and that he finds to be a curious thing. They named her Shiori.

 

He loves holding her, he adores her, finds his creativity blossoming around her so much he actually sets up a crib in his work-shop so he can keep her with him when he works. He had not expected this. Then again, he had never thought he’d be a father either. The world certainly is full of surprises, he thinks as he puts down his paintbrush and stretches his arms up until his back pops, before dropping them down and reaching for his coffee mug. He brings it to his lips, only to pause. Empty. He’ll have to make some more. He ascends the stairs, enters the apartment and sees Itori slumbering on the couch, their little girl in the cradle he had made, also asleep. It’s a cute sight, makes his fingers itch to sketch them, but he moves on and finds the coffee-maker.

 

“Eh?” He looks up when he hears the baby call out, sounding a bit confused, then walks over to the other two and sees that Shiori is awake. She is turning her head, looking around curiously and he crouches down and gains her attention.

 

“Awake already?” He murmurs and the little baby looks straight at him. He starts rocking the cradle carefully, hoping to lure her back to sleep, but it’s not working. It seems that the moment she saw him, she abandoned all notion of sleeping any more. The coffee-maker announces that it’s done brewing and Uta straightens up. Shiori makes a noise of protest and he looks down. She won’t sleep and he can’t leave her alone.

 

“You’re coming along then, I guess.” He carefully picks her up and rests her against his shoulder as he fills his mug and scribbles a note for Itori so she won’t worry when she wakes up. They head downstairs and Uta moves to lay Shiori down in the crib, but she’ll have none of it. When he tries to lay her down, she complains loudly. Uta has long since learned that when she’s like this, music helps calm her down, especially ones Itori listened to frequently when she was pregnant. Apparently babies can hear or something like that while still in the womb.

 

So he connects his phone to the speakers in his shop and start playing The Fault In Our Stars, Itori’s current favourite. Somehow he had managed to influence Itori’s taste in music, enough for her to start listening to western artists. It’s a lovely song, and Uta hums along as he grabs the paintbrush, attempting to continue working while carrying his daughter.

 

“Just six months old, but already so demanding.” He murmurs as the girl rubs her face into his wrap sweater. “You’re already taking a lot after your mother.” Shiori makes a delighted sound and he chuckles.

 

“Well, out of the two of us, she’s not the worst to take after.” He decides as he moves the brush across the canvas. It seems to entertain the girl for a while, but then the song changes again, and a song named Lucy by some band starts playing and she starts wailing so suddenly Uta nearly drops the brush. He hurries to grab his phone as he rocks the baby.

 

“I’m sorry, I’ll change it.” And once he does, she stops crying. Her peach coloured eyes are wet and scrounged up as she whimpers and he smiles reassuringly as he rocks her.

 

“I don’t like that song either.” He says as he carefully wipes her tears, then tickles her beneath her jaw. She giggles and ducks to hide her face in his sweater again. The artist smiles and moves to pick up his paintbrush again and while he paints, Shiori tries to reach for the painting, enamoured with the colours. Uta keeps her away and she looks at him, eyes wide in shock.

 

Uta is denying Shiori something?

 

“Don’t give me that look, you always put your fingers in your mouth.” As if to prove this, Shiori does shove almost her entire left hand into her mouth and he laughs.

 

“See? I’d rather you _not_ eat paint.” He tells her and she smacks her lips. Not much time passes when she starts rubbing her eyes and yawning and that’s when Uta lowers the volume of the speakers and starts wandering around his studio as he hums along to the music. There are two ways of making Shiori fall asleep, and Uta can only do one of them as he lacks the equipment for the other option, but that is okay. Shiori is quite the agreeable baby, and falls asleep in moments. He carefully lowers her into the crib and goes back to painting, only to pause.

 

“The great No Face, terror of the Fourth Ward, a vicious Clown, doting on a little baby ghoul.” He turns to see Itori stand not far behind him, arms crossed and a wide grin stretched across her face.

 

“Have a nice nap?” The artist asks as he turns back to his painting, the brush trailing colours across the canvas again.

 

“Very. How are things going down here?”

 

“Hm, almost done, I think. I hope they’ll like it.”

 

“How can they not?” Itori admires the sight before her. It’s big, and the colours compliment each other so well Itori is sure that he could have painted the most unnatural thing he could  think of, and people would still have found it beautiful. She moves over to take a look at Shiori, who is breathing quietly, but heavily enough to alert her mother that she is thoroughly asleep.

 

“Was she up for long?”

 

“Thirty minutes at most, I think.”

 

“You think?”

 

“I wasn’t exactly watching the time.” He shrugs and Itori straightens up. She’s bored, her baby is asleep and she’s got nothing to do at the moment. She decides to rile up her partner a little bit, see if she can’t find some amusement from his reactions.

 

“She’s going to be a real beauty when she grows up.”

 

“Obviously.” Uta mutters quietly, not at all catching up on what Itori is planning just yet. It might be because he’s so engrossed with his work now that Shiori is asleep and he has the chance to fully immerse himself in his work.

 

“Mhm. She’ll take a lot after me, and you know how I was.” There’s a slight twitch in his movements.

 

“I had guys coming after me from all angles, not a break to be had.” She says slowly as she moves around him and she sees his movements slow, his grip on the brush tightening, though his face betrays nothing. She’ll have to push a bit more then, she thinks, eyes narrowing impishly. It’s obvious that Uta, despite never having actually showed much concern about anyone for as long as she’s known him or much care about others feelings either, is actually quite protective of their daughter. Perhaps it’s because of his great battle with Renji during the Dragon-incident, maybe Renji said something to him that made him think a bit, but he’s changed. It took him a decade, but he has changed.

 

And Itori suspects this change will give her at least another decade of amusement. Uta the protective dad, who would have thought?

 

“Imagine when she brings home her first boy-“ The brush snaps in half and she has to cover her mouth to muffle the snickers leaving her as Uta turns around with a deadpan stare.

 

“Stop it.”

 

“I’m just stating facts.”

 

“I don’t like your facts.”

 

“Now you’re just being childish.” She says smugly as she moves to sit beside his workbench, leaning back against it. “She’s not going to stay a baby forever. She’ll grow up, like we eventually did, and she’ll find someone to be with through trial and error, and whether you like that person or not, you’ll have to accept that  _she_ does.”

 

“Hard to find someone if I murder anyone who looks at her.”

 

“Now now, no need to cause a mass genocide.” Itori rolls her eyes in mock-annoyance. This is so much fun, even as he stalks up to her, eyes narrowed.

 

“What if Ren-chan’s boy likes her?” Uta halts, and she can practically see the gears turning in his head.

 

“Renji-kun can…” He trails off. “Damnit woman!” He snaps and she knows she’s won.

 

“No, actually.” He says again, crossing his arms. “I’ll play nice, on one condition.”

 

“Oh?”

 

“You give me full leave to hunt down anyone who makes her cry.” Itori ponders the suggestion for a bit, before nodding.

 

“Let me add a second condition to that. If she doesn’t take care of it herself, you get to go on a murder spree.”

 

“Deal.”

 

“Also, this means we have to raise her to be able to take care of her own problems, just so you can’t go on a murder spree.”

 

“Spoilsport.” He says, but he laughs all the same and moves to pick up the pieces of the brush and throws them in the trash, then riffles through his messy small table for a new brush and dips it in paint. He continues his work, Itori watches quietly from her seat, and when Shiori wakes up her mother picks her up and walks a few rounds around the shop, and then moves to stand beside him so Shiori can see the results. She waves her arms as high as she can and makes a high-pitched sound before she tries to reach out for the painting.

 

“By the way, when she gets old enough, _you_ get to do the talk about reproduction.” Itori says.

 

“Do I get to draw it?”

 

“Depends. How graphic would you make it?” The way the corners of his lips tug upwards makes her rethink her decision.

 

“On a second thought, no.”


End file.
